Walking Dead 1. Incident at the Quarry

"Get your lazy ass to work, Woman! What else are you good for, anyways? Certainly not gettin' my rocks off." Ed chuckled harshly as he took a long drag from the menthol cigarette that was poised held in between his grimy, fat, pain-inflicting fingers.

How many times had those same fingers slapped Carol in the face or curled around her upper arm, dragging her around and slamming her frail body into walls, tables, chairs, or even the cold, unforgiving floor of their dark two-story house? How many times had those meaty hands touched her, threatening to snap her bones in half like a nimble twig, or twist a limb around to the point where the tendons were torn and the pain was so unbearable she slipped into a coma, oblivious to any further damage he may have done until she woke up hours - sometimes days - later, dragging her limp, bruised, and mangled body to the hospital, only to make up some complete bullshit story of what had happened? _I tripped down the stairs, I fell off of my horse, Bessie - _our skittish dairy cow_ - had trampled me once again._ The local hospital had heard any and every plausible excuse roll off of her tongue easily as she lied for the millionth time, just for her own sake. They probably thought she was incredibly accident-prone, and believed she needed an escort everywhere.

Only if they had known that her 'escort' was the one inflicting these intense beatings in the first place.

She flinched then nodded. Carol always hated when he talked like that to her, especially in front of her daughter Sophia. She shouldn't have experienced the beatings her mother had taken, the fowl words thrown at her, and the involuntary nights in bed that occurred way too often. The extremely grimy man - if he even qualified as one anymore, after the way he treated women - would force himself on his wife, grunting like a pig with a nasal condition, all the while not caring if his own daughter heard. Luckily, he would only last a few minutes before he would fall asleep, leaving a violated-Carol staring at the ceiling, salty tears streaming down her face silently as she tried to will herself into a dreamless, uncomfortably-light sleep, just to start all over again the next day. She had always taken beatings for the only person that had ever loved her, and even tried to hide the ugly, disfigured truth from her daughter's eyes - but she knew she couldn't stop the occasional whine or yelp that escaped her throat, and those small sounds seemed to spur Ed's actions on even more. Sophia knew, even though she tried with all her strength and will-power to make sure her little one was oblivious to these cruel actions.

And to think, this was before corpses starting walking the earth.

Now she sat at the quarry with a few women she had come to admire and adore: Jaqcui, Lori, Amy, and Andrea. Even though she was fond of these women, it didn't stop the slow-burn of jealousy that slithered it's way in the pit of her stomach whenever she looked at them. All of these women had everything she used to have, in a life before Ed - confidence, longer hair, beauty, smooth and unscarred skin, and no bruises in between their legs, along their backs and shoulders, decorating their arms and breasts.

But one thing she envied especially, with a surprisingly fierce hatred, was that they were all desired by someone - or at least had the ability to be desired. Ed had made sure to take that attribute away from her immediately. With her cropped gray hair, her pale and unappealing skin that was littered with scars, to her unshapely body, she wasn't capturing the much-wanted attention of a man.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jaqcui retorted. _Whoops, didn't realize I said that last part out loud. _She thought.

"Yeah, that's so not true Carol! You're beautiful!" Amy exclaimed loudly, maybe a little too loudly.

"Any man would be lucky to have a woman like you - Ed doesn't realize what he's got." Andrea stated, then looked over her shoulder towards the trees where the Dixon's tent was set up. "Guess someone else has noticed too." She muttered, flicking her chin towards the tree line.

She turned around to see Daryl's retreating figure, his back tense from embarrassment of being caught in his actions. Her heart swelled and her stomach twisted into a million knots, while her head spun. _Was Daryl Dixon staring at me? _She thought about it, then shook the idea off with a laugh. Why would Daryl ever stare at little old Carol Peletier?

***Beauty Can Be Deadly***

Daryl had been embarrassed that Andrea had caught him staring at Carol. He did his best to make it discreet, but he was still caught. _Ugh, just fucking great, _he thought. _Jus' hope Merle don't find out. He'd never let me live that one down._

As he rounded the bend to his tent he heard the sickening sound of skin on skin, then yelling mixed with crying. _Her _crying.

"Oh, shit," he muttered as he spun around immediately, bolting down to the quarry, his crossbow firmly pressed against his back with one hand clasping the strap hung over his shoulder. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying him silently down to the water.

But as he saw what was happening there - Carol holding the side of her face, Andrea and Jaqcui yelling at Ed, while Amy and Lori held Carol close to them, wiping her tears. A single bead of blood fell from in between her fingers, falling onto the ground.

_That fucker. He's dead._ He thought darkly as he lunged for Ed pulling him back by the collar of his stupid shirt, only semi-aware of the gurgling sounds that protruded from his fat lips. Then he spun the son of a bitch around to face the younger Dixon, punching him square in the nose, a sound of breaking bones sounding through the air. That didn't deter the rough redneck who was now seeing red, and only made him hit the mam harder. His eyes, mouth, brow bones, cheek bones, temples…all of these places along the man's face were being pummeled over and over, his flesh slowly taking on the appearance of ground beef. Blood covered Daryl's knuckles - Ed's accompanied with his own, his skin splitting against the contact of bone on bone. Out of his peripherals he saw Shane and Rick run down into the quarry, but Daryl didn't let up for anything or _anyone_. He had built-up tension and anger he needed to get rid of, and he really hated how that big fucker touched his woman.

He vaguely heard Rick and Shane telling him to stop, that he was unconscious, but still he didn't stop. Not until he felt a soft hand firmly grasp his bloodied fist, making him flinch. Looking up, he found the beautiful gray-blue eyes of Carol Peletier, holding his fist. "He's had enough." She said softly, then smirked, muttering so only he could hear, "plus, I still want my turn to pummel his ass."

After he heard this, he felt the left corner of his mouth turn up for a half-second before he stood, letting Carol lead him to clean his hand.

***Beauty Can Be Deadly***

She had no idea what had come over her as she told Daryl that. Frankly, she couldn't remember a time she had used such vulgar language to anyone - especially _about_ someone. The soft-spoken hunter also surprised her when he let her lead him to his camp in an attempt to thank him by cleaning his knuckles.

He didn't say one word towards her, and his expression barely changed when the alcohol hit his exposed tissue - an action that would have made her cringe. Even when she had to use a swab to clean the cuts of dirt and use small tweezers to dig out small pebbles from under his skin, he barely acknowledged what she was even doing. The only indication he knew what was happening was that his eyes were glued to her small hands, moving swiftly to clean hid wounds effectively.

Carol noted that the veins in his arms popped and his muscles were tense and straining, almost like he was going to bolt. Somehow she knew it wasn't from the pain in his knuckles.

Just as she went to get the bandages their eyes met, and the amount of guarded pain with a mix of something she couldn't place made her gasp, her throat and lips drying. Those pale-cyan eyes seemed to bore into hers, causing a familiar yet seemingly foreign heat between her legs. Even though she wanted to look away, almost certain her obvious desire was showing in her expression, she found she couldn't look away.

No, it wasn't until he finally dropped his own gaze that her head snapped down, almost like she was being released from a trance. Her hands numbly found the bandages, wrapping his knuckles slowly. She told herself she was taking her time so his wounds wouldn't get infected, but she knew it was a lie. A filthy, dirty lie.

Carol departed then, nodding to him - his way of a thank you - and he grunted in response. It wasn't until her back was turned did she feel his eyes on her back with a fierce intensity, watching her go.

Neither was the wiser, both completely unaware that the elder Dixon brother, Merle, had witnessed the whole exchange between his baby brother and the mousy woman.


	2. What Looks Can Do

**Hello my lovely little readers! :D thanks so much for liking my first chapter (I know it was short) Poor Carol! I'm still deciding whether or not to wait a while for Caryl to officially happen…hmm…**

**But anyways, i'm gonna try to update every day, but I know somedays I won't be able to. **

**PS sorry for the spelling errors in the first chapter!**

**Enjoy:) **

Chapter 2

"Mommy! What happened to her?!" Carol could hear her daughter's screams from outside the RV, where she was sitting as Jaqcui tended to her cut along her lip and lower-cheek. Fresh bruises started to show along her upper cheek as well as the area that was cut.

"It's okay Sophia, she's alright." Rick reassured her. Carol could just imagine Rick's stance right now - his hand resting on the girl's frail shoulder, his other hand on his knee while he bent down to talk to her, his freshly-shaven face level with hers.

"If she's fine, why can't I see her?" Her voice was laced with concern, but the pitch was high and whiny. _She's definitely got my stubbornness._ She thought, chuckling slightly.

Jaqcui noticed her laugh and smiled, commenting, "That girl is just like you. Stubborn, not giving up on what she wants."

A full-belly, happy laugh escaped Carol then - the kind that made you feel good, which you rarely heard anymore. When she thought about it, she actually couldn't remember the last time she laughed like that. _Before Ed, I know that much. _"Yeah, and I'm glad for that. She knows what she wants and won't stop until she gets it."

After a few minutes of silence in the RV while there was still a low hum of conversation outside the door, Carol sighed. "You know Jaqcui, I could do this by myself. I've been doing it for years." Her body tensed at that - she hadn't meant to say that out loud. _At least Jaqcui's the only one that heard it._

The thin black woman kneeling in front of her began chewing on her lip, hands beginning to tremble slightly. "I know, Sweetie. It's the least I could do, though. After all you've done for me and Teddy since you met us." Teddy was her husband, Theodore Douglas. Everyone else in camp called him T-Dog, but the nickname 'Teddy' was a special, couple-thing between the two. Carol always wanted a relationship like that. One where they called each other things no one else could, who touched each other just to make sure they were there, still with them; couples that truly loved each other. Every scar, every flaw, every imperfection in their personality and body, their partner loved and thought it made them even more perfect.

"Carol?" Jaqcui asked, her voice thick with confusion and amusement, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. This made Carol return to reality, leaving her wishes and thoughts for another time. "Sorry…I'm listening." She muttered apologetically, her face turning red from embarrassment.

"Did you hear anything I said?" She mused, gauging the older woman's reaction.

"No…just lost in my own world, I guess." Jaqcui chuckled at that, shaking her head. "But seriously, I could have done this."

"What did I just tell you? It's no big deal!" The smile on her friend's face made her smile in return.

"Fine, fine." She laughed, her hands fidgeting with a thread on her pants. Her eyes darted back and forth and the saliva built up in the back of her mouth, forcing her to swallow before she choked. That happened when she was nervous, and she always thought it was really gross. Just as she was about to ask Jaqcui something, she was interrupted by Shane's yelling.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?" The deputy yelled from outside the ancient RV - _probably near the fire pit_ - Carol guessed, trying to pin-point where his voice was coming from. The two women raced out to see Shane and Rick chest-to-chest beside the dying fire, Shane's face red with fury.

Rick looked distressed, tired of the shit his friend had been giving him lately, faint circles forming under the younger-man's eyes. "Fort Benning isn't gonna help us. The military has fallen, I've seen it, Shane! When I got out of the hospital, there was a deserted Military base there. Helicopters, Hummers, vans, guns…ALL of it, just sitting there! The CDC is our best chance! The Walkers down in the city will run out of food and come up into the mountain, looking for something - _anything _- alive."

A strong yet guarded voice spoke up then from the tree line, "Rick's right. Fort Benning's a death sentence." There he was, Daryl. His strong, toned arms were crossed firmly across his broad chest, his ankles crossed over one another while his left shoulder was leaning against the trunk of an oak tree.

"What do you care, Redneck? It's not like you got anyone worth protectin', 'cept Merle, who, if you somehow haven't noticed, can take care of his goddamned self." Shane retorted angrily, his body turning slightly to acknowledge Daryl.

"You can go if you want Shane," Rick's voice raised an octave to address the whole camp, "and anyone who agrees with him can follow his lead. But the CDC has everything we need. Food, medicine, protection!" His argument, and possibly the fact that he was giving people the option of whether or not to leave, persuaded most to follow him. Carol believed no one agreed with Shane until Lori, Rick's wife, spoke up next.

"How do we know the CDC hasn't fallen? What if Shane is right?" Her tone led to believe that she agreed with Shane, but her face was clouded with concern, worry lines appeared along her forehead. Yeah, she was very conflicted about this. In the distance Carol heard Daryl scoff, and mutter something along the lines of 'stupid bitch', but she couldn't be sure that's what he said. Merle howled with laughter at whatever Daryl muttered behind his brother and clapped a strong hand on his shoulder, making the younger man turn to acknowledge him, flinching slightly at the contact.

"Lori…it won't be safe there. What about Carl? What if he gets sick and we don't have the medicine, or…" his eyes traveled to Carol who looked studiously away, her face burning with embarrassment, knowing exactly what he was implying. _Or if Ed was to beat me up bad again. _"You know." His eyes flicked back to his wife. "People could get hurt, bit, scratched…something. We need this. I know there's something there. We just have to push to get there!"

She didn't look completely convinced, but she didn't argue further. At that, everyone dispersed, except for Carol. Her eyes wandered around the camp, but stopped when she met another pair of eyes.

_His eyes._

She felt her knees go to rubber, and in that moment she was glad she was leaning against the RV. Her face became flush, and she didn't even realize what his looks could do. They could make her feel things long ago forgotten. She wanted to look away, afraid she would lose control of her body at any second, but she didn't. More like _couldn't_. Those pale eyes kept ahold of hers, almost as if he was holding her up with a single glance. His body position hadn't changed, which gave her a great view of his muscular arms and strong jaw that she noticed was clenched.

He seemed to be struggling with something internally, yet his eyes never betrayed him and didn't give away what it was. But she knew her eyes were being dirty traitors, showing at least _some _of the desire that was evident in the heat at the base of her stomach and the dull throbbing she felt between her legs. _Goddamn._

***Beauty Can Be Deadly***

Merle Dixon clearly remembered telling his brother that they should head back to their camp and turned around, fully believing that he would follow. But after a few steps, he realized he didn't hear the faint sound of Daryl following him. He turned back around to see Daryl and Carol staring at each other, and he smirked at the obvious hunger in the woman's eyes. It was interesting to see this mousy woman eye-balling his baby brother with such lust it made even Merle go hard. _Damn woman…_

He saw his brother shift his weight, and knew he was trying to hide the obvious arousal in his pants from the intensity of this woman's look right now. Merle almost laughed at his brother, and he would have if it weren't for the fact that he himself was hard, and that her busted up-fuck of a husband was only yards away, lying unconscious in his tent, the bruises around his eyes and along his face now yellow and green, with some hints of purple and blue around the edges. One of his eyes was completely red - _blood vessel must've popped. Fuckin' sucks, asshole. _

The only thing different Merle wished would've happened were that Merle got a few swings in himself. _Now THAT would have been fuckin' fun._ He found himself grinning at the thought, cracking his knuckles and flexing his upper arms.

Snorting, Merle gave up on waiting for his brother. He was most likely not gonna move anytime soon. So he treaded on quiet, almost silent feet, acting like he was gonna head back to his tent when he had another thing in mind.

_Oh yes, Ol' Merle's gonna release some pent-up tension. Best believe it boy._

Merle crept around to the tent Ed was laying in, pulling his knife out to cut the back of the tent. He found he couldn't let of steam the way he wanted to - by pummeling Ed some more - because there was a walker munching on his internal organs, what looked like the remains of his small intestine, the red blood staining the dead thing's hands and wrists, smeared around it's pale, rotted mouth. His legs were almost completely gone – the walker had eaten almost all of them by herself.

The walker looked like it was a woman in it's former life, with longish hair that had patches from hair possibly being torn out by other walkers - or it had simply fallen out, it's fingers long and slim, the thing's bones were thin and frail while her waist was small, a large bit taken out of her stomach with the edges a darker color than the center, most likely from exposure to the air and other walkers.

He spun his knife around in his hand, taking the walker out by stabbing it in it's eye socket. "Damn, you are one ugly skank." He muttered, heaving the body out of the tent.

***Beauty Can Be Deadly***

Ed's eyes could barely open, and the intense pain from breathing took over his body, making him hold his breath for extended amounts of time just to ease some of the pain.

_Fuckin' Dixon. My whore of a wife is probably fuckin' him behind my back. That bitch needs to learn her lesson. No one cheats on Ed Peletier. NO ONE. _

That's when he heard the footsteps and rustling outside his tent. He believed it was Carol coming to check on him, or even his daughter. Trying to sit up, the pain in his side was so unbearable that it forced him to lay back down.

Then he realized the footsteps were too heavy to be Sophia's. "Thought I told your ass to leave me alone!" He yelled, thinking it was Carol outside his tent.

The footsteps stopped. More shuffling. They headed towards his tent. Two small hands reached for the tent flap. The flimsy material was pulled back slowly. One foot inside the tent. Two feet inside the tent. The creature was on it's knees. Then those small hands ripped into Ed's legs, yet he didn't scream. His windpipe was bent to the point where he could barely breathe. He felt every single ounce of pain until he died a half hour later, the pain in his body felt like a fiery inferno, almost as if he was cast into the hottest corner of hell.

Only if he realized that was his final destination.

Then hours later, his now-widowed wife had discovered his chewed up body. Yet she didn't cry or feel any remorse. Instead, she smiled. She was finally free from him, and for the first time in years she felt safe; Carol had long forgotten what that felt like.

**Hope you like this one! Ed died a lot quicker than I first imagined! Haha, well anyways please review me! I LOVE reviews! :D**


	3. Broken Strings

**SORRY for the late update! But I swear the feels in this chapter will make it worth it!**

**This one is set after the farm, when they are on the road. (I know I skipped a shit ton of stuff, but I will be doing flashbacks of the important stuff) **

**And I have decided that I will wait a while for Caryl to happen in this fic...muahaha evil! But it WILL be worth it!;)**

**And now..1, 2, 3...enjoy!**

**I do not own The Walking Dead or the song Broken Strings (used in this chapter)**

Chapter 3

"Next shift Daryl, Rick's inside with the group. And you need sleep." Her small voice rang out through the night air behind him, making goosebumps raise on his arms. In that moment, he was glad that he had on long sleeves so she couldn't see it.

He nodded, his now long and dirty hair falling in his eyes. "Yeah, but ya haven't been sleepin' neither." He dared a look at her, trying to keep his own gaze soft and subtle. "Don't think I can't hear ya."

She visibly swallowed and her eyes glazed over, and the sound might as well have been a gunshot in the middle of a perfectly still, Georgia winter night. Daryl knew Carol had been crying lately at night when she thought no one heard her. Yet he couldn't blame her, hell part of it was his fault.

He just couldn't bring her little girl back to her…alive.

Daryl had felt like shit ever since that night. He clearly remembered promising the woman that her precious Sophia was fine and would be back in her mother's arms in no time at all.

But that hadn't happened. She was already bitten when he had found her in the woods. No one knew he found her alive, he just couldn't bring himself to say that. He found that he could barely bring himself to say much of anything at all…

_Her body was lying against the base of a tree, legs spread out in front of her with the toes of her sneakers hanging weakly to the sides, as if she had no energy left, her head was lolling to her left as her bright, fever-ridden eyes looked up at him; her body was almost lifeless on the ground, except for the shallow and almost heartbreakingly-slow rhythm of her chest rising and falling._

_One…two…then a pause. One…two…an even longer pause._

_It was killing him to watch what was happening to this little girl._

_Then she raised her left hand slowly, almost as if she was underwater, towards Daryl. His breath was heaving until that point, then it hitched in his throat when he saw the little girl's fingers shaking, her light skin was already taking on a yellow-greenish color, her cheeks pale yet flush at the same time._

_One…two…pause._

_"S-Sophia?" He choked out, swallowing loudly as he inched closer to the dying girl._

_Suddenly her hand dropped straight toward the ground, the tiny palm landing in the dirt with a light thud, her fingers curling in on one another. The dirt under her fingernails was stained black with blood - dead blood. He shuddered when he realized she had to fight against whatever walker had claimed her fate._

_"Don't let her see me like his..." He could barely hear her voice. It was already small and tiny to begin with, but the fact that she had almost no energy, it made her voice sound like it was apart of the wind._

_'Her'. Sophia knew that he would realize exactly what she meant. Carol would never want to see her like this..._

_Carol! She would be broken to find her little girl a walker._

_The small child coughed, the motion racking her ribs roughly, making her chest rise and fall sharply. "End…this…please. Please." Her request made his heart break in two. The only thing worse would be if…_

_No. He was not going to think about that. Carol wouldn't kill herself. Ever._

_She wouldn't leave him. Couldn't leave him. Not now._

_But, Sophia? There was no other choice. She was already bitten. Her fate had been decided the minute the walker's teeth ripped into her skin, infecting her bloodstream with whatever virus from hell was causing this shit._

_Then Daryl found himself doing the inevitable. He was raising his gun, ready to end this girl's life. Just as his finger tightened on the trigger, he heard her voice again._

_"Wait…not yet."_

_He lowered his gun, waiting for the girl to continue._

_"Sing to me, Daryl?" She had turned her face slightly to look at his, and he saw a smile on her face. 'For someone dying, she looks happy.' He thought._

_He normally would have told her hell no and ask if she was crazy, but this was Sophia. He already failed her once, he wasn't gonna do it again. So he nodded once and took a deep breath, his hands shaking._

_"What song?" His voice didn't sound like his own. It sounded like his Grandfather's. Full of love, understanding, and something else he could never pinpoint._

_"Do you know the song Broken Strings?" She asked, her voice about as hopeful as Daryl imagined it could be at the moment._

_"By James Morrison?" She nodded then winced, holding her head. He swallowed, murmuring huskily, "Yeah, I know it."_

_And before Daryl even realized it, he was singing to this girl lying there half dead, who was smiling at him like he was a fucking angel, and like this song could take all of her pain away._

_Sophia Peletier listened as the man beside her began to sing the song that her mother would always sing whenever she had a nightmare or someone at school had made fun of her. She sat back and listened to his shaky, beautifully rough voice singing to her._

Let me hold you for the last time  
It's the last chance to feel again  
But you broke me, now I can't feel anything

When I love you and so untrue  
I can't even convince myself  
When I'm speaking it's the voice of someone else

_His voice broke then and he closed his eyes, involuntarily pulling the dying child into his lap and wrapping his arms around her tiny frame. After a few seconds, he began singing again._

Oh, it tears me up  
I tried to hold on but it hurts too much  
I tried to forgive but it's not enough  
To make it all okay

You can't play on broken strings  
You can't feel anything  
That your heart don't want to feel  
I can't tell you something that ain't real

_That's when he noticed the taste of salt in his mouth. 'Tears' he noted. Daryl Dixon was crying over this girl, her life ending in his arms._

Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse  
How can I give anymore  
When I love you a little less than before?

Oh, what are we doing?  
We are turning into dust  
Playing house in the ruins of us

_Sophia smiled, leaning into Daryl's chest. She took his hand, tracing letters into his wrist, right where the pulse of his beating heart showed._

Running back through the fire  
When there's nothing left to save  
It's like chasing the very last train  
When it's too late, too late

Oh, it tears me up  
I tried to hold on but it hurts too much  
I tried to forgive but it's not enough  
To make it all okay

You can't play on broken strings  
You can't feel anything  
That your heart don't want to feel  
I can't tell you something that ain't real

Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse  
How can I give anymore  
When I love you a little less than before?

But we're running through the fire  
When there's nothing left to say  
It's like chasing the very last train  
When we both know it's too late, too late

You can't play on broken strings  
You can't feel anything  
That your heart don't want to feel  
I can't tell you something that ain't real

Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse  
So how can I give anymore  
When I love you a little less than before?  
Oh, you know that I love you a little less than before

_She dropped his wrist when he paused, her head lolling back. Suddenly everything around her was bright with light. Jacqui, Amy, Jim, Dale; they were all there, smiling and waiting for her. She was glad to see her Dad wasn't there. 'Hopefully he's in hell.' Sophia thought with a final smile._

Let me hold you for the last time  
It's the last chance to feel again

_Just as Daryl sang the last words, he felt her heart stop beating through her back and against his chest, the girl's shallow breathing stopped at the same time as her heart.. His chest tightened and his head dropped, crying even more for the small body in his arms._

_Sophia heard the last two lines of the song as if he was underwater. Far, far underwater. Now she was with all of the people that had died that she had come to love, and she was happy. Happy, and no longer in pain._

_Daryl sat there for a few minutes, listening to the echo of his crying in the trees until he stood up, removing the dead girl from his lap. Reluctantly he pulled his gun out and shot her in the head, murmuring an, "I promise," in response to her plea she had traced onto his wrist._

_The one thought that ran over and over in his head as he stooped down to pick the body up and carry her back to her family was her final request._

_Keep my mom happy. And alive._

_Daryl could do that. Or die trying._

He looked back at her and saw Carol was looking at him curiously, obviously noting the pain and regret on his face. "C'mon," he said, standing up and reaching out to touch her arm, but dropped it halfway there and shoved his hands in his pockets, ducking his head. "Let's get Short Round, have him take your shift. We both need rest."

After they had gotten Glenn to take her watch shift, they both went to the tent they were now sharing. He waited outside the tent as she changed, and when she was done she would tug on his hand from inside the tent, pulling him in as she stepped out; now it was his turn to get ready to sleep.

It was routine. They had many routines for everything. Eating, taking watch, hunting, driving, sleeping arrangements. All of it.

Carol laid down on the ground first, pulling the blanket up around her in an attempt to stay warm. But after a few minutes she felt big, strong arms wrap around her middle and tug her towards him, his hands awkwardly splayed across her back. Stifling a laugh, she settled into his chest.

The two laid like that for hours, on and off sleeping. Whenever Daryl would wake up, he would stare at Carol's sleeping face and smile, finding every time he looked at her his chest constricted and the blood in his inner ears began to throb, making it hard to hear anything. 'Damn. The things this woman does to me.'

He carefully and gently brushed his lips against her forehead, falling asleep for the third time that night.

**Okay, R&R me baby!**


	4. Dreams and Memories

**Thanks so much for the reviews you guys gave me on the last chapter! And no, they are not at the prison yet!**

**Get ready for a chapter with Merle POV!**

**Warning: Racism (I mean come on, it's Merle). Disturbing content.**

**I do not own The Walking Dead**

Chapter 4

The next morning Merle woke up to a heavy rainstorm raging outside his borrowed - and ripped - tent. _Jus' fucking great. Thanks Officer Friendly. _He groaned, running his hand over his face, listening to the rain pounding against his flimsy tent. _Jus' like that night in Atlanta. _Merle thought to himself, standing up to get dressed for the day, avoiding the small puddle that was gathering in the corner from the rip in the rainfly and the tent.

Guillermo and those old farts in that beaten up, used, worn-out warehouse. Yeah, he remembered that group of spics who helped them old folks.

_"Well, Merle." Guillermo said, walking leisurely a few paces ahead of Merle as he made his way through the first floor of the old building, "you can stay here for a few days, unless you'll be a major drain on our resources with that," he pointed to the stump that was once Merle's hand, "_inconvenience, _you've got there."_ _The man chose his words carefully, knowing this white boy in particular would be trouble and willing to fight if someone insulted him. _

_The only indication he gave to the Mexican was a grunt, continuing to eye his band of Mexican jumping beans brandishing shot guns that looked a lot like police guns, and Merle would know from personal experience what types of guns the law chose. _

_Suddenly Merle found himself almost running into the man in front of him, and he smirked. "Whoa, easy there Paco. Why ya suddenly stoppin'?" _

_He heard a faint barking-like sound and strained his ear, amused at what he heard. _A dog? _He listened a little longer. _A small-ass dog yappin', that's for sure.

_"You hurt any of the old folks, or any of my Boys, and I'll cut you up, feed you to my dogs. Three of the nastiest, man-eatin' bitches you ever seen. Got'em from Satan at a yard sale." There was a threatening tone under his voice and Merle almost laughed at the willed-intensity of it._

_"Yeah, they sound REAL tough there, Taco Bell. I'm really shakin' in my shoes now." He teased, an arrogant smirk across his face. "Now why don't you show ol' Merle where he'll be stayin'?"_

Merle chuckled at the memory and stepped outside, _Man I fuckin' hate watch when it's rainin'. _He thought, cracking his knuckles on each hand, rolling his shoulders like he did when he was about to fight someone.

Rick was standing by the railing of the nature reserve park they had found, a rifle clasped in his hands. The man had no jacket on - _fucking idiot _- and his curly hair was flattened against his forehead, water droplets dripping into his eyes every now and then.

"Yo, Officer Friendly, where's your jacket? If ya hadn't noticed water's falling from the fucking sky." A small smirk danced at Merle's lips when he noticed the ex-cop jump. He loved making these assholes jump outta their skin. Shows how much the man was on GUARD.

'Course, the rain didn't help none.

Rick sighed, the poor guy looked like he had run a marathon, climbed up a mountain and back, fought against a herd of geeks, and yet still volunteered for watch. The only question was, why?

Merle could give you a thousand guesses, but only a few stood out. One, he could be trying to prove himself a leader. 'Hero-status' as Merle called it. He hated guys who did that - well, in the normal world he would have said that. Now he respected a man like that. Another reason could be simply the man just couldn't sleep. Not everyone was equipped to carry the emotional baggage that this world entailed you to. The only reason Merle could take all of that emotional shit was because he'd even dealing with it his whole life - as had his baby brother. _No, I can't think about that now. _And the only other reason that he could imagine would be the man's wife - _what was her name? Something starting with a L…Daryl always calls her Olive Oyl…maybe that is her name, for all I know. _Merle chuckled to himself, _yeah, she definitely looks like an Olive Oyl. And with the way she toys around that asshole cop? _For a minute Merle actually felt a twinge of sympathy for the man in front of him, but then internally scolded himself at the idea. _Merle Dixon doesn't feel sympathy for anyone, except his baby brother. _

Running a hand over his face, Rick groaned, "It's Lori." _Bingo, he knew it. _"She's just…getting under my skin lately. Especially with how she backs Shane up on everything…"

Nodding, Merle took the rifle from Rick's hands. "Get some sleep man." Before Merle continued, he cleared his throat and mentally kicked his own ass a hundred times. "Take my tent, if ya hafta." Rick then eyed the older man wearily, wondering what the hell he would find in the man's tent before nodding, making his way over to the make-shift home.

***Beauty Can Be Deadly***

Daryl awoke with a strangled scream that had been trapped in his throat, so his lower jaw slacked and hung open, a small drop of water repeatedly fell on his forehead. His eyes were firmly closed, sweat covering his face and his chest rising and falling heavily, the curves of his stomach concaving every time he inhaled. Shaking his head rapidly, his sweat-drenched hair falling into his eyes and sprawling across his face, he tried to force the remnants of his nightmare far away from his memory - yet, the images stayed, burning holes into his adrenaline-rushed brain.

_"Carol?" He murmured after he noticed that his left side was colder than usual. Looking around the tent, he realized she wasn't there. _Odd, _he thought. Carol was always there beside him._

_He lifted up from the floor, pulling on his jeans and boots, not bothering with lacing the damned things. The rain fell on his warm skin of his back as he stepped outside his tent, frantic eyes searching for her._

_Her slender figure was over by the railing - _she had watch and didn't tell me? - _and he noted her arms were hanging loosely by her odd thing was, even though at the time in his nightmare it had not struck him as such, her hair was not cropped and silvery. It was her old hair - auburn curls reaching past her shoulder blades. In the dream, he had thought this as normal, nothing out of his place...except maybe the way her shoulders didn't rise and fall the way they normally did from the force of a human breathing; her shoulders were perfectly still, and her ribcage was not expanding either. _

_Daryl gingerly made his way over to her in the rain, and when he was in a few feet's proximity of her, the smell of death struck him like a brick wall, causing him to physically step back. _

_Popping and cracking noises reached Daryl's ears and he looked back at Carol, seeing her body start to move._

_Yet her movements were not the graceful, fluid movements he had found happy to become familiar with over the harsh winter. These movements struck him as odd - sharp, slow, eerie…_dead.

No. No, no. _He thought, his eyes widening and he saw her rotted skin, the way her arms hung lifelessly at her sides, the creepily-slow way her head moved before her body to turn to him. Her nose was up in the air as if she could smell him - _smell him! – _and as she turned to face him, he saw a flash of something gleaming from the ground as if to yell at him, 'hey, I'm important! Notice me!' His eyes shifted down for a second to see the gun on the ground with the silencer._

_That's when he noticed the gunshot wound on her head, and the burn from the silencer. _

Why? Why now? She was an asset to the group, had finally learned how to deal with Sophia's disappearance - hell, she had even gotten enough courage to say she loved him! Why? _Daryl's mind was racing with questions that seemed to dominate his brain, taking over his body. _

_He was painfully aware of the hot tears falling down his cheeks, and he could see the stains of dried tears on her dead-flesh covered cheeks as well. _

_Carol's body stumbled over the gun _- irony was a bitch - _and he struggled to reach him, arms extended and hands grasping for him through the rain. She had her head tilted, blood making her auburn hair seem black; her once perfect blue eyes were now white and dead, red veins filled with dead blood prominent at the edges of her eyes, a pale smoky-colored pupil resting off-centered in her eyes._

_They didn't move from the base of his throat where he could feel his pulse trying to rip through his skin and run away from the scene. Daryl backed up to only run into another cold body._

_Daryl could barely bring himself turn slightly to see the Walker-Merle._

_"No, not you too!" He yelled, somewhat amazed that he could use hid voice at all._

_Then, as of Merle and Carol's dead figures weren't enough, he saw everyone else he had come to care for and hate._

_Sophia, stumbling out of the woods, those same dead eyes and a huge bite in her shoulder, holding the hand of an equally as dead Carl Grimes, his sheriff's hat missing a piece or material in the rim. There was blood on his teeth and Daryl came to the disturbing conclusion on his own - Carl had bitten Sophia._

_Rick was next, his dead body following after his son. The rifle was strapped across the man's back - _well that was real fucking useful.

_Then the dear Greene family - Hershel and Beth, with Maggie stumbling behind and a geek-version of Glenn following the very dead family. _

_After a few minutes he saw Shane's body trudging out from a different place in the woods, a scowl that he wore most of his time during his life still plastered on his stupid face. How Daryl would have given anything to see that man actually scowl right now._

_But the last sight was enough to make a grown man weep and pray to god on his hands and knees, begging to be graced with death so he wouldn't have seen that sight._

_Lori, very much dead, staggered from the RV - _that thing was supposed to be at the farm - _and her stomach was open, a walker baby hanging from the inside, long-dead flesh hanging from the small mouth. The thing's eyes weren't even open, hands disformed and an odd-shaped head. _

_They all advanced on him, and he felt the cold hands of the dead - his friends, family, enemies - all tearing him open._

_Except for one._

_Carol was the only one not ripping at him. And she was the last thing he saw, her figure standing above his head, watching him die slowly._

Now, Daryl looked at his side. Carol lay there, a small arm curled around his. She was alive.

ALIVE.

He grabbed her head in his hands gently and kissed her silvery hair, running sweaty fingers through it lovingly, silently grateful she didn't wake then.

Daryl had a shit-load of praying to do, thanking God it was only a nightmare.

**R&R me lovelies! **

**And please excuse any minor spelling errors! **


End file.

Walking Dead, Hurt-Comfort, Romance